Words Fail Me
Softly, softly, my love,
do your fingers trace
the fullness of my cheek,
trailing a message,
a whisper, as soft as new down.
I open my lips to speak
sweet words of love,
but hear only, a sigh come forth.
Words fail me.
Deeply, deeply my love,
do your warm eyes
seek the depths of my own,
speaking a message,
a murmur, in silent prose.
I open my lips to speak
sweet words of love,
but hear only, a sigh come forth.
Words fail me.
I yield, I yield, I yield.
Copyright © Lois Baldwin | Year Posted 2016
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